Page 4 of Daddy’s Naughty Bartender (Naughty Girls Book Club #5)

"In all the ways that matter." I pick at my salmon. "That's why Josh's reaction tonight... He's protective of what we've built. What his dad left us."

"The bar was Mark's?"

"His dream. He'd just gotten the loan approved when he got sick." I manage a smile. "I almost sold it after. But Emily said Dad would haunt us if we let someone else run his bar."

"Smart girl."

"She is. She's at college now, studying pre-med at Northwestern."

"Beautiful and brilliant, like her mother."

I blush. Again. This man and his compliments. "You're very free with your compliments."

"You mean, with the truth? Always." He leans back, studying me. "You really don't see it, do you? How remarkable you are?"

"I'm just a widow who runs a bar."

"You're a survivor who turned grief into purpose.

You raised two kids alone while building a business.

You're the heartbeat of this town, I've been here a week and I can see that.

Everyone in this tiny town talks about you.

You are more than a bartender. You are a therapist, a friend.

You're remarkable, Karen. And you deserve to be told that every damn day. "

Tears prick my eyes. "Jason..."

"Too much? I can come on strong because I don’t hold back."

"No. Yes. I don't know." I dab at my eyes with my napkin. "I'm not used to this."

"To what?"

"Being seen. Really seen." I meet his eyes. "It's terrifying."

"I know." His voice is gentle. "But I'm not going to stop seeing you. Fair warning."

We finish dinner in comfortable conversation, but the undercurrent is there, this pull between us that seems to grow stronger with every passing minute. When the check comes, I reach for my purse out of habit.

"Don't even think about it," he says mildly.

"I can pay for my own meal."

"Of course you can." He hands the waiter his card without looking at the total. "But you won't. Not with me."

"That's very—" Daddy like. I won’t say those words though.

"Traditional? Old-fashioned? Controlling?" He grins. "I've been called worse. I take care of what's mine, Karen. And while you're with me, you're mine to care for."

While you're with me, you're mine to care for. God. If this man isn’t a Daddy… he should be. He reads like a book boyfriend hero come to life.

The possessiveness should rankle. Instead, it makes heat pool low in my belly.

"I'm not yours," I manage.

"Not yet." He signs the receipt, stands, and offers me his hand. "But I'm patient."

Outside, the night air is cool against my flushed skin. We walk slowly to our cars, neither seeming eager to end the evening.

"Thank you," I say softly. "For dinner. For helping with Josh. For..."

"For seeing you?" He stops beside my car, boxing me in gently with his body. "My pleasure."

"This is probably a terrible idea."

"Probably." He braces one hand on the roof of my car, leaning closer. "Want to tell me to leave you alone? To go back to Chicago and forget this?"

"No." The admission comes out breathless.

"Good." His free hand cups my jaw. "Because I have no intention of forgetting you, Karen Mitchell. You've been taking care of everyone else for so long. Maybe it's time someone took care of you."

"I don't need?—"

"I know you don't need it." His thumb brushes my lower lip. "But maybe you want it. Maybe you're tired of being everyone's rock. Maybe you want someone else to make the decisions for a while."

"You don't know what I want."

"Then tell me." His voice drops to that commanding tone that makes my knees weak. "Tell me what you want, baby."

The endearment undoes me. "I want... I want to not think for five minutes. To not be responsible for everything and everyone. To just... let go."

"I can give you that." He's so close now I can feel his breath on my skin. "If you'll let me."

"I'm scared."

"I know." He presses a kiss to my forehead, gentle and cherishing. "But you're also brave. The bravest woman I know."

"How can you know that? We've known each other a week."

"Sometimes a week is enough." He steps back, giving me space to breathe. "Sometimes you just know."

I want to argue, to list all the reasons this is impossible. Instead, I hear myself ask, "When will I see you again?"

His smile is slow, pleased. "Tomorrow night. There's a wine tasting at the winery. Come with me."

"I have to work."

"Susie can handle one evening or call someone else in." It isn't a question. "Seven o'clock. Wear something that makes you feel beautiful."

"You're bossy."

"You have no idea." Another kiss to my forehead, then he's opening my car door. "Drive safe. Text me when you're home."

"I'm not going to?—"

"Karen." That tone again. "Text me when you're home. I need to know you're safe."

I nod, not trusting my voice.

The drive home is a blur. I sit in my driveway for a full minute, trying to process the evening. Josh's anger. Jason's steadiness. The way he's made me feel cherished and challenged in equal measure.

My phone buzzes.

Jason: Home yet?

I smile despite myself. Bossy man.

Me: Just pulled in. Thank you again for tonight.

Jason: My pleasure. Sweet dreams, baby. Try not to overthink. Sometimes good things are just good things.

I stare at the message, at that casual endearment that makes my stomach flip. Then I see Josh's truck in the driveway, lights on in his room and reality crashes back. I'm a mother. A widow. A woman with baggage and responsibilities and a son who is hurting.

But for a few hours tonight, I've just been Karen. And God help me, I want to be her again.

Sometimes good things are just good things.

Maybe he's right. Maybe I can have this. All of it. A man who sees me, who makes me feel precious and desired and safe all at once.

Maybe, just maybe, I can let myself fall. Maybe I deserve a second chance at love.